Parker went off. The moment she did so Annie went into the corridor and fetched Mabel in.
“Oh, you goose of all geese!” she said. “Now the worst is over; I tell you the worst is over. You don’t suppose for a single moment your aunt, Lady Lushington, will think that you stole the necklace or that I stole it. She will suppose, most assuredly, that it was stolen on the journey between Interlaken and Zermatt. Parker is convinced on the subject and I have let Parker understand that it was not nearly as valuable as I supposed. Lady Lushington won’t trust me to manage a bargain for her again; that is the worst that can happen. Now, May, do cheer up. You are all right. I will manage things for you when Priscilla’s Christmas bill comes round. You will see plenty of me, I fancy, between now and then. Dry your eyes, darling. I know you are sorry to part from me.”
“I can’t go on being wicked without you; that’s the principal thing,” said Mabel. “I know I’ll give in.”
“Think what injury you’ll do me; and do you really want to go back to that horrid school?”
“I don’t think I’d mind so very much; it was peaceful, at least at school.”
“You would soon be sick of that sort of peace.”
“I suppose I should,” said Mabel.
She had already wiped her eyes, and she began slightly to cheer up.
“Annie,” she said eagerly, “is your uncle really dying?”
“John Saxon says so; otherwise, of course, he would not have come,” said Annie.